


A Really Smart-ass Addition to Baker Street

by FanficCornerWriter19



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, John in med school tho I don't know how late classes are, Sherlock missing things, Uni!lock, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 10:36:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficCornerWriter19/pseuds/FanficCornerWriter19
Summary: When John Watson, doctor in training, sees a young man who looked weirdly like his flatmate, he thinks nothing much of it until the young man tells him about his conclusions - conclusions that are scarily accurate. Even Sherlock Holmes has a lesson to learn as a young boy fresh out of high school beats the still-a-bit-wet-behind-the-ears consulting detective at his own game.





	A Really Smart-ass Addition to Baker Street

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreamin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/gifts), [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts).



> Anyone who watches LBD will get my reference to an outfit on the series later. Also, if you haven't already figured out from the tags, guess who the new Baker Street smartass is!

When John Watson came home from his med classes, in the hallway stood Sherlock Holmes. Wait, no, that wasn’t right – Sherlock wasn’t due till at least half an hour later, and this tall young man had jet-black hair. Instead of wearing Sherlock’s signature Belstaff, the boy (John pegged him as eighteen, maybe nineteen) wore a dark brown long-sleeved button-down shirt with a grey tie and formal black pants. His black hair was at least half an inch shorter than the arrogant Holmes’s. 

The boy turned, and John was greeted by the most startlingly green emerald eyes he’d ever seen, sharper than even Sherlock’s hue-changing grey eyes. And they were set in a fair, English face almost identical to Sherlock’s: high cheekbones; straight, upturned celestial nose; even the slight crow’s-foot crinkles near the boy’s eyes, although these were lighter and more cheerful, made by laughing, not frowning.

But when the boy spoke, his voice was almost as deep as John’s annoying flatmate’s, his accent as crisp. “You must be John Watson.”

“How did you know?” John blurted out before he even knew what he was asking. 

“Are you sure you want to know? Most people don’t like my deductions, you know.”

“I live with Sherlock bloody Holmes, how bad can you get?” John replied. _This kid can make deductions? And if they're accurate, why would people dislike them? ... oh._

“Alright, you asked for it,” the boy answered, adjusting his tie. “Mrs. Hudson mentioned how the two fellows in 221B might need another flatmate to split the rent with, seeing as they’re both students and only one of them has work. She also mentioned something about the spare bedroom needing to be filled with more than ‘Sherlock’s experiments’. 

“Judging from the brief personality summary she gave me, and the age of your clothes – your tie is what, four years old? – I know you’re not the one with the job. Otherwise you’d treat yourself to new clothes at least every two years; but your whole wardrobe is older than that. Plus, going on the white cloth sticking out of your bag, you’re the medical student, which means, one thing to another, that you’re John Watson. And,” the boy added cheekily, “if you were Sherlock Holmes you wouldn’t have asked me how I knew – you would’ve slapped my mistake in my face.” 

John was getting really confused – and annoyed – here. “Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?” God forbid this kid move in to 221, let alone B – then John would have _two_ arrogant, childish pricks breathing down his neck. 

The boy held out his long-fingered, pale hand. John couldn’t miss the similarity to Sherlock’s matter-of-fact introduction. “The name’s Edmund Darcy, and my business is 221B, Baker Street. Specifically – I’m your new flatmate.”

John was saved from a reply by Sherlock himself coming through the door. “Who are you?” the detective demanded.

“My name’s Edmund Darcy,” the tall boy answered, nodding politely. 

Immediately Sherlock threw out deductions: “Eighteen years old, overly formal, just graduated from high school, working student – waiter, probably – doesn’t have any money for fare, no car, likes to swim. Never been in a relationship, plays the violin often, perhaps for talent show performances.”

The boy smiled. “Can we continue this in your living room? I’d like to tell you what you don’t know yet – and my own guesses about you.” Before either man could say another word, Edmund turned and walked up the stairs. 

“May I voice my own deductions about you, sir?” Edmund asked politely, competitive spirit gleaming in his eyes. Sherlock chuckled smugly. “I know I’m right about you – most of it, anyway.”

“Actually, I’m seventeen,” Edmund corrected. Sherlock looked stunned - the tall boy was _that_ tall - but the younger man plowed on: “I moonlight as a DJ at a nearby club and bunch of others, not a waiter. I did just graduate from high school, and it’s true that I walk a lot and like to swim – but I can borrow my older brother’s car whenever I like – that is, the spare.” He smirked a very Sherlock-like smirk, then launched into his conclusions about Sherlock.

“Twenty-two” – John almost choked on his coffee when Edmund guessed Sherlock’s exact age – “you own your business, you have an older brother you don’t receive here often, and you experiment with human body parts from a morgue. Also, you invented the job ‘consulting detective’” – he made air quotes – “and your full name, which you hate, is probably William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Now, how many did I get right?” Edmund leaned back, obviously enjoying the open-mouthed gaping the two older men were doing. 

“A – all of them.” Sherlock forced out the words. “Let me learn – how did you know?”

Edmund grinned. “First, your age. Easy – look at the equipment, the burns, and the lab-like orientation of the kitchen – it’s been like this for a while. I assumed you got this” – he picked up a beaker – “when you started your course in chemistry, and it’s three years old, give or take a few months. I started early, and I jumped a grade, so I’m technically two years younger than most high school graduates. I’m seventeen, so you were around nineteen. Enrolled the year after, been in uni ever since. So – twenty-two.

“You can figure out the ‘own your business’ part – I know you’re not stupid, Mr. Holmes. Older brother? I saw a random family photo. Your brother is much older than you, and in almost every photo, he’s there. It’s only in recent ones, and the ones taken here, that he’s absent. I’m guessing he was a bit overprotective.” Sherlock nodded. 

“The morgue part is also relatively simple. The smell. I can smell blood as well as any hound, and I know what kind of blood it is I’m smelling. I can’t see them here, so I think you’ve put them in the refrigerator, also going on the stains on the handle and door sill. If you were killing for these parts, you’d be more selective and not need to put them in the refrigerator – or at least, not often enough to leave that many stains. But you scrounged them from a morgue, so you needed someplace to keep them.

“Now, your name. I can see initials here… W. S. S. H. I know one of your names is Sherlock, based on how you’re known. Holmes is obviously your last name, but how about the others? I admit that William was a long shot, and Scott an even longer one, but the book here” – pointing at a book open to the title page – “says ‘To Scott’. Though I have no idea who gave this to you, Scott is the other one. Sherlock is more likely to be your second name since second names are usually used in lieu of a first. 

“But,” Edmund finished, smiling almost cheekily, “I only guessed about William.”

Both Sherlock and John stared at him. 

Edmund smiled. “Do I have your approval? Because I’m damn well living here if it’s my dying vow to move in.” 

“Hell yeah!” Sherlock grinned, the first real grin John had ever seen. 

“Flatmate accepted,” John agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> Did anyone guess?  
> The outfit Edmund wore - a dark brown button-down polo with long sleeves, a grey tie, and black pants was a reference to William Darcy's outfit in LBD: Episode 99 (Future Talk).  
> And yes, that is Edmund Darcy, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy's amazing witty, smart-alecky, and deductive middle child, the Darcys' second son, and, in an AU represented in 'I Lie Because the Truth Terrifies Me', Sherlock's ward. I just had them meet here cos I dunno...  
> Also, if UK students don't graduate from high school at nineteen, I apologize.


End file.
